The Muse touched my shoulder lightly, a butterfly’s kiss. Words rose up and flowed through my fingertips to the keyboard. I could barely keep up with the thoughts that formed perfectly on the page.
In the meantime, there are dishes in the sink, laundry to be done, and let’s not forget the housework. Oh, and I’m out of milk. And that’s just the day-to-day house stuff.
And those lyrical sentences that weave themselves into a story? If it happens at all, it’s because I’m sitting and writing. Without inspiration. Without the Muse, who, I think, laughed at the going rate and hopped a plane to Aruba. (I think she wants to unionize.)
I write anyway. Because that’s the definition of a writer. And it’s work. I write through the chatter and clanking of machines at a Laundromat. Through the swaying and stops of a subway car. Through the absolute silence inside my own head as I sit in the living room in front of my computer and stare at a blank screen.
But even those blank pages will get words on them eventually. Because I’m there, putting in the time and effort. So here’s the most important tip I can think of: If you’re not in your seat ready to work, the odds are good nothing will get written. Show up. Write.
* Image courtesy of federico stevanin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net